Loosing a frustrated breath, I wrap my arms around her middle and toss her over my shoulder. An explosion of Italian curses bursts from her lips as her surprisingly strong fists pummel my back. She kicks and squirms, and damn, she’s a feisty little thing. Again, my damned cock twitches as visions of handcuffs and silk sheets flood my mind.
I carry her out the back with Mario and Tony trailing behind me. Neither says a word, but I know what they’re thinking. I’ve fucking lost my mind taking this wildcat home with me. But they have no idea….
Mickey’s waiting in the black town car in the back alley. He peers over his sunglasses as I approach, and the hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his lip.
“Don’t,” I snarl.
“I didn’t say nothing,capo.”
I crouch down to get into the car, but Stella’s arms are flailing, derailing my efforts. I don’t want to break her arms, but I’m about a second from losing my shit.
“You need help?” Tony pops his head up beside me.
“No,” I grit out. “I’ll see you back at the office tomorrow.”
“Let go of me, youcoglione!Figlio di puttana!” Stella screams. She kicks and lands a booted foot in my crotch.
“Porca miseria!” I roar and cup my balls with one hand while clenching my arm around the devil woman. “Get in now, Stella, or I swear to God….”
She punches my back with both fists and continues wailing. Releasing my wounded family jewels, instinct takes over. I slap her on the ass. Hard.
The crack reverberates across the suddenly silent air, and Stella immediately goes still. I’m not sure who’s more surprised: her or me. But I only stop to dwell on it for a second, before shoving her into the car.
She lands on all fours on the soft leather, then whips her head back and glares up at me. “Never touch me again.”
And damn, if it isn’t the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
“Sorry,” I mumble. “I swear the next time I spank you it’ll be because you begged for it.” I press my lips into a tight line the moment the words are out. Fuck, this is Vinny’s little sister. What the hell’s wrong with me?
Not to mention, I am not the type of man who touches women without their permission. I don’t apologize either. I’ve done my fair share of spanking but only with full consent. Hell, full enjoyment. I crawl onto the bench across from her and reach for my briefcase. I have two meetings this evening that I’ll have to cancel. It’s clear my new houseguest will require my full attention tonight.
Merda, what did I get myself into?
CHAPTER11
A GUN IS MUCH BETTER THAN PEPPER SPRAY
Stella
A tremor races down my spine as we zip up the FDR to the Upper East Side. I clench my jaw to keep it from shaking. There’s no way in hell I’ll look weak in front of thisminchione. My thoughts begin to spiral with each passing moment of silence.
What is he going to do to me?
The other two idiots keep calling himcapo, which means boss in Italian. Could this guy really be the head of the notorious Kings? Why the hell would he want me? And for what?
Another shiver surges down my back, and a wave of goosebumps puckers my flesh. I eye the man from across the roomy back seat. He’s jabbing at his laptop, eyes fixed on the luminescent screen. Dark, wild hair tumbles over his forehead, obscuring those midnight irises hidden beneath long, sooty lashes. His strong, stubbled jaw flexes and strains, a tendon twitching with each inhale. If thefiglio di puttanahadn’t kidnapped me, he would’ve totally been my type. Asshole and all.
In any case, he doesn’t seem like the type of man who’d need to force himself on a woman. But who the hell knows what this guy is into? If he gets me to his penthouse, I am screwed.
The pepper spray. In all the commotion, I’d nearly forgotten about it.
Before digging my fingers into my pocket, I glance across the back seat, and my captor’s dark eyes meet mine from over his laptop.Dammit, stop looking at me. Diverting my gaze, I skim the sleek leather upholstery and the gleaming wood accents of the fancy town car. Crystal bottles full of liquor and polished tumblers line the left side of the backseat. It’s practically a full bar back here. On the opposite side, bottles of water and soda jut out of a cooler filled with ice. And just beyond that, a hidden compartment catches my eye. Something silver and shiny glistens beneath the dim lighting.
A gun? So much better than the pepper spray.
Dad used to keep a Glock hidden underneath the mattress. He’d even taught me how to use it once the old neighborhood started getting rough. I inch closer, and the mob boss’s eyes lift to mine again.
Shit.
